The Sinatra Effect

When I was young, no matter how much I loved my aunt and uncle, and I love them more the moon effects the tides, I never looked forward to dinner at their house. For one simple reason, they played Frank Sinatra during the meal. That voice, that music, I remember complaining it was bad for digestion. I begged for the Rolling Stones, Bay City Rollers, or at least some Partridge Family. Am I dating myself?

Needless to say, my requests were never heeded. And once, and it only took the once, my grandfather sang, "I think I love you, I think I love you, I think I love you..." His 70 year old voice was off key, and out of beat. I squirmed. "Grandpa, do you have to?"

He smiled, and replied, "What? You don't like the Partridge Family?"

I rolled my eyes. Lesson learned. I never asked for my music again.

Time passes, and at each memorable family gathering Frank was there. His words and signature timing became as much apart of the meals, as the mashed potatoes and green bean casserole.

Then the unthinkable happened, Mr. Sinatra died. Regardless of their venue every radio station was playing his music. And as I drove home from work that day, I realized I knew all the words and that I was crying as I sadly sang along. When did this change of heart occur?

That evening I ordered Frank Sinatra's Golden Hits. Rainy afternoons, his music sooths me. On vacations, his CDs are the first to be put in the car case. In the quiet of the early morning, somewhere between here and Florida, Frank serenades me as the rest of my family sleeps. On the way home from Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle's, the Christmas music highlight is him. I love his rendition of the Twelve Days of Christmas. One of these years we'll pick up a lavendar tie for our dear one.

As I've grown older, I proud to say I've grown to appreciate the music of Frank Sinatra. But what does the Sinatra Effect mean in the grand scheme of life? Sinatra's music means family.